il they came to the piazza.

'Signorina,' he whispered, 'you make me ver' happy to-night.'

She drew her hand away.

'I'm tired, Tony. I'm not quite myself.'

'No, signorina, yesterday I sink maybe you not yourself, but to-day you
ver' good, ver' kind--jus' your own self ze way you ought to be.'

The piazza, after the dark, narrow streets that led to it, seemed
bubbling with life. The day's work was finished and the evening's play
had begun. In the centre, where a fountain splashed into a broad bowl,
groups of women and girls with copper water-jars were laughing and
gossiping as they waited their turns. One side of the square was flanked
by the imposing facade of a church with the village saint on a pedestal
in front; the other side, by a cheerfully inviting osteria with tables
and chairs set into the street and a glimpse inside of a blazing hearth
and copper kettles.

Mr. Wilder headed in a straight line for the nearest chair and dropped
into it with an expression of permanence. Constance followed, and they
held a colloquy with a bowing host. He was vague as to the finding of
carriage or donkeys, but if they would accommodate themselves until after
supper there would be a diligence along which would take them back to
Valedolmo.

'How soon will the diligence arrive?' asked Constance.

The man spread out his hands.

'It is due in three-quarters of an hour, but it may be early and it may
be late. It arrives when God and the driver wills.'

'In that case,' she laughed, 'we will accommodate ourselves until after
supper--and we have appetites! Please bring everything you have.'

They supped on _minestra_ and _fritto misto_ washed down with the red
wine of Grotta del Monte, which, their host assured them, was famous
through all the country. He could not believe that they had never heard
of it in Valedolmo. People sent for it from far off, even from Verona.

They finished their supper and the famous wine, but there was still no
diligence. The village also had finished its supper and was drifting in
family groups into the piazza. The moon was just showing above the
house-tops, and its light, combined with the blazing braziers before the
cook-shops, made the square a patchwork of brilliant high-lights and
black shadows from deep-cut doorways. Constance sat up alertly and
watched the people crowding past. Across from the inn an itinerant show
had established itself on a rudely improvised stage, with two flaring
torc